


On the Edge

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: Rainbow Marbles [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Sam, Edging, M/M, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean keeps Castiel on the edge while Sam watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Edge

Dean likes to keep them on edge. Not both of them at once, of course, even though he threatens it all the time, but there are days where he keeps one of them on the absolute edge and one of them uncomfortably, unbearably aroused but not so close they’re crying with frustration like the other.

 

Today, it’s Castiel he’s tormenting. Dean is an excellent judge of Castiel’s tells, and the demon can always recognize when the former angel can’t take any more. Castiel is also better at holding back his orgasm, better than Sam will ever be, and has a wealth of self-control that never fails to impress both of them every time.

 

Sam’s watching avidly, making a little choked-off noise every time Dean orders Castiel to pull his hand away and Sam is _sure_ this will be the time he can’t, that he’ll keep going and get the release he so desperately needs in one, two strokes despite Dean’s orders, but Castiel always surprises him by unfailingly obeying Dean even as little protests of “I can’t,” and “I’m _there,_ ” fall from this lips.

 

Sam can tell how bad Castiel needs to come from the shade of his cock, from the amount of pre-come pouring from the tip, from the way his back is arched, from the broken tone of his begging, from the way his eyes close when Dean tells him to stop, from the way his breathing speeds up whenever Dean tells him to put his hand _near_ his hardness, but not to touch.

 

Sam isn’t sure how much further Dean is going to push Cas, isn’t even sure how much more the other can take. He knows that Dean knows their limits, knows how much they can take, knows exactly how far to push, but Sam is always astounded at how much Castiel can _take,_ how far he’ll let himself be pushed, the way he’ll let himself become a broken, pleading, sobbing mess for Dean.

 

Dean has been keeping Cas on edge since this morning, and Sam isn’t quite sure what time it is now, but it’s a few hours past lunch, and poor Castiel has only had about ten minutes of break-time the entire duration. He hadn’t had a lunch break – Dean had ensured that by stroking him under the table while Castiel tried not to choke on his sandwich – and he’s only had two bathroom breaks.

 

Castiel is trembling and flushed and crying and begging non-stop, and Sam sometimes thinks that when he gets like this, he’s _beyond_ the edge, holding back only by sheer force of will. He knows from experience that Cas must be oversensitive by now, aching all over, and completely, utterly desperate.

 

Castiel announces, breathless, that he’s close, as if that’s a surprise to anyone – he’s _been_ close for _hours,_ only backing down from the edge a little all this time.

 

Dean orders him to keep stroking, then leans down and whispers in Castiel’s ear.

 

“I’m going to tell you to do something – not now – and you’re going to do it.” Castiel lets out a shaky breath of air and nods. “You’re going to come soon – not now, don’t you _dare_ – but you’re not going to touch yourself no matter what.” Castiel nods again, and can’t help the whimpered “please” and “Master” that tumble from him, but Dean just keeps going. “When I say so – _not_ now – you’re going to put your hands behind your back. Understood?”

 

“Yes. Please, oh, please,” he moans.

 

Dean lets him suffer for another minute, Castiel on the edge, _beyond_ the edge, silent tears still leaking from his eyes, lips still begging soundlessly. Then he says, “Hands behind your back,” and Castiel’s hands fly to comply, and Dean lets five seconds pass before saying one word – “Come.” – and Castiel is _gone,_ back arching and mouth falling open in a silent scream as he releases hours and hours of tension and paints his chest in sticky ropes of white as he comes.

 

Castiel starts crying in relief as soon as it’s over, curling in on himself even as Dean soothes him and pulls their bodies flush together and kisses him gently.

 

Sam knows what comes next. He knows that a shower is in order, knows that they’ll all pile into the stall Dean modified to be big enough for the three of them together, knows that they’ll both take turns holding Castiel up and washing him, knows that they’ll probably spend the rest of the day in bed, laughing and kissing and playing games long after Castiel has recovered.

 

And best of all, Sam knows that it’s his turn tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> This series is open to prompts/requests.


End file.
